The Jewel of Equilibrant w-1

by Steven Frankos

  As the quartet of warriors dismounted, Moknay slid through the shadows of the mountains toward the battle. His fear of magic swirled in his eyes as he spotted the filth-smeared Jewel and crept forward. A misguided shaft of sorcery exploded behind his head and the Murderer cursed as he dodged forward. Mud, wind, rain, lightning, and tremors all worked against him as Moknay rose into a crouch and started forward again.

  Thromar watched apprehensively, gnawing on his lower lip; Logan scrambled to his horse.

  The four rain-spattered Reakthi jogged around the struggling forms. One released a cry as Pembroke's Triblade winked silver and neatly severed the soldier's foot from his ankle. In a splatter of blood-mingled mud, the Reakthi pitched forward and fell screaming into the slime. His companions swiftly scampered backwards, pelted by the insistent rainfall.

  "The Jewel!" Groathit was cursing them. "Get the Jewel, you fools!"

  Moknay gave the storm-torn sky a worried glance and charged headlong for the gleaming Jewel. He glimpsed back at his friends and saw Logan wading through the sludge toward him. A sword almost took off the Murderer's head as he swung back around and narrowly ducked under the blade. The Reakthi who had attacked toppled off balance, deceived by the treacherous mud. Lightning whined through the black stormclouds as Moknay attempted the dive for the Jewel but also lost his traction.

  The Hills seemed to crumble beneath them as the tremors intensified.

  "Moknay!" Logan was screaming. "The Jewel! Get it!"

  One of the remaining Reakthi reached down for the glaring gem when a magnificent funnel of energy spiraled heavenward. The chestplated soldier was knocked backwards by the eruption, and a searing, magical wind tore at Moknay as he inched nearer to the scintillating Jewel.

  A boulder rumbled down the hill and crashed over the side; lightning illuminated its route.

  The world moaned as if dying.

  "Moknay!" came Logan's voice again.

  The Murderer gave the flaming Jewel a suspicious stare. His fear was even stronger than back in Plestenah when they had gone across the bridge. And with good reason! The Jewel had not been traitorously spewing columns of Cosmic fire!

  Moknay swallowed his fear and lunged.

  "Logan! Catch!" he yelled, throwing the Jewel high into the rain-filled air as soon as his fingers clamped around it.

  Time was suspended as the glaring Jewel spun through the tempest. Vaugen, Groathit, Pembroke, Zackaron, Thromar, and all the Reakthi stared in hushed awe as the incandescent gem spiraled through the rain on its way toward Logan.

  The Hills rumbled and thunder shattered the sky as the Jewel splashed at Logan's feet. Hastily, Logan flipped open the lid of the tin he held in his hand and gathered a handful of the bluish powder inside. A dense fog of blue energy spumed up around the young man as he smothered the blazing Jewel with the foul-smelling dust, and a lightning bolt shrieked in protest.

  The Hills dimmed as the golden flame of the Jewel wavered… and went out.

  The harsh rain slackened as Logan fell to his knees, peering at the docile Jewel. The blue powder had miraculously disappeared on contact with the golden gem, but it had worked as Logan had guessed. That was what the Smythe had implied when he said Logan had had the ability all along. Pembroke, the businessman had reminded them, was no spellcaster, so Zackaron had to have given him a way to keep the Jewel in check himself. The way of doing that was the small tin of foul-smelling snuff, something so trivial it had constantly been overlooked-yet carried by Logan through almost the entire trip.

  A portion of sky forced its way through the rainclouds.

  "He did it!" Thromar roared cheerfully. "Friend-Logan, you've stopped the Wheel!"

  Logan inhaled deeply, wiping rain and sweat from his brow. For some reason, he did not feel like celebrating. He was cold and wet and had lost his hope of returning home. His love had been rejected and misguided, and two more people were lying dead because of him. No, he certainly did not feel like cheering.

  Zackaron got up from the mud as the rain let up even more. "That's it?" he inquired, crestfallen. "The game is over?"

  Moknay glared at the wizard, wiping muck from his hair. "Looks that way," he responded.

  "Oh." The spellcaster glanced back down at Pembroke. "You! Why are you lying there? Quickly, quickly! Get out! Get up! We have so little to do and so much time to do it in!"

  The lean servant pulled himself out of the mire, his black eyes trained on the mad sorcerer. "Pembroke, he is. How is it you know of Pembroke?"

  "Forgetful," stated Zackaron. "I am Zackaron. I am Master. I shall be Master. I am forevermore Master. I is Master. Agggh! Deformity! Freak! Outcast! Unclean! Make haste! Make haste! We must away!"

  The drenched Pembroke shook himself like a dog and sent mud and water flying. "But Child," he argued. "Pembroke cannot leave his Child."

  "Child, you want?" Zackaron replied. "I shall build you one from clay."

  As Zackaron lifted his arms, Pembroke's ebony eyes locked on Moknay. "Pembroke shall have his Child," he hissed.

  There was an implosion of air and spellcaster and his servant were gone.

  The rain became a drizzle.

  Moknay scrabbled to his feet and glared at the force of Reakthi still confronting them. Dripping muck, Groathit raised himself from the slush, his good eye flickering with fury. There was a plop of disturbed mud and Vaugen leaped off his horse.

  "Unfortunately," the Imperator smirked, "you won't be rid of us quite so easily. You're a sensible man, Murderer. Give us Matthew Logan and the Jewel and we may spare you."

  "Spare me your lies!" Moknay snapped, reaching for a dagger with slick fingers.

  "Come, come," Vaugen answered, "you're in no condition to fight. You have a wounded shoulder, and I'm sure your friends wouldn't want to see you hurt more."

  Thromar unsheathed his sword, teeth clenched. "Keep back, Imperator," he rumbled, "or I shall do to you what I did to Agasilaus!"

  Groathit hovered behind Vaugen's shoulder like a mud-splattered shadow. "You frighten us," he mocked.

  Voicing a war cry, Thromar charged through the mud. Bowstrings drew back and fixed on the huge fighter. Clumsily, Thromar slid to a stop, eyeing the archers from atop their mounts.

  The winds died to a breeze.

  "Matthew Logan," Vaugen jeeringly called to the young man. "Your friends are to be fodder for the carrion crows unless you have something to say about it. Are you willing to work for us? A simple 'yes' will save your friends' lives."

  Silently, Logan raised his head and stared without seeing. Loss upon loss had piled up upon the young man, and he was overwrought with grief. Launce, Cyrene, the Smythe-all of them were dead.

  His surest chance of going home was just as dead.

  "Well?" the Imperator demanded.

  "He'll kill us anyway!" Moknay warned.

  Groathit's hand flamed orange. "Silence!"

  Logan blinked away some of the sorrow and focused on Vaugen and his band of Reakthi. They were threatening the lives of his two friends, he realized. They were threatening to kill Thromar and Moknay!

  The familiar rage began to swell in Logan's breast as he fixed his eyes on Vaugen.

  The archers drew their arrows back even further.

  "We're waiting," Vaugen mocked.

  An unexpected ruckus exploded behind the Imperator, and half his troop pitched over the side of the cliff. The arrows and bows dropped from the archers' hands as they twirled to see the line of men behind them spill to the soggy ground. One archer careened over the mountainside; another's horse was bodily lifted into the air. In shock, Vaugen jumped away from his troop as they were mercilessly struck down by some unseen foe.

  A blue face suddenly surfaced among the mounted warriors.

  "Fooooooood!" the ogre bellowed, batting Reakthi away with each swing of his brawny light blue arms.

  Just as surprised as Vaugen, Moknay and Thromar cast bewildered looks at Logan, but the young man was not looking at them. His eyes we
re locked on the black-chestplated Imperator, and the wrath that churned within his pupils was incredible!

  Under Logan's direct command, a meteoric fireball exploded from the Jewel and caught Vaugen full in the chest. Battered by the destructive blow, the Imperator jerked like a marionette caught in a windstorm. He slammed into the side of the mountain, his flesh ablaze with Cosmic fire. The last of his men went spinning down the hillside as the light blue ogre halted in the mud, its crooked grin proudly stretched across its face.

  Groathit gaped at Logan. Magic! the spellcaster realized. The whelp had purposely reached into the Jewel and had torn free a portion of magic! Beforehand he had only directed the Jewel's discharge, but now he had actually delved into the gem itself and had extracted its magicks!

  The wizard turned as Vaugen peeled himself from the mountainside and lurched in his direction. The Imperator's flesh was charred and melted, and wisps of smoke snaked from his burned scalp as he groped for support.

  "Groathit," he rasped through seared lungs. "Go."

  The gnarled spellcaster whirled on Logan. "The Smythe is dead," he said with a sneer, "and I shall see that you do not take his place! And this time, Vaugen shall not stop me!"

  A tongue of flame shot into the drizzling rain and engulfed both spellcaster and Imperator. When it fluttered out of existence, the two were gone.

  The rage and sorrow slowly released its hold upon Logan, and he was surrounded by his friends when he looked up.

  "Remember what I told you about too much of that blather?" Moknay joked. He glanced over his wounded shoulder at the ogre towering behind him. "I take it this fellow is a friend of yours?"

  The ogre grinned. "Friennnnnnnnd!"

  Logan placed the last stone on Cyrene's grave and turned to the trio gathered on the path. The slight drizzle of rain had ceased, and early morning light was filling the sky from the east. The hillside, however, was marred with burn marks, and countless prints churned the muddy soil of the ground.

  Cleaning any lingering sludge from his sweat suit, Logan headed for his horse. As he lifted the Jewel from the ground, Thromar asked: "What are we going to do with that thing?"

  Logan shrugged.

  "Give it to Barthol," Moknay suggested. "He'd be so scared of it he'd always remember to keep it in check."

  "Would it be safe?" Logan queried.

  "Leave your friend here to help guard it," the Murderer advised, pointing at the ogre.

  Thromar finished removing his soiled Guard's uniform and chucked it over the cliff. "What about you, friend-Logan?" he wondered. "What are you going to do?"

  Logan placed the Jewel in his saddlebag and mounted his horse. "I don't know," he admitted sullenly. "The Smythe said something about other ways home. Maybe I can find one of those."

  Moknay jumped into his horse's saddle and winced at his injury. "Well, then I guess it's up to Thromar and I to help you," he declared.

  Logan threw the Murderer a quizzical glance, but Moknay's smile told him he was sincere.

  The ogre gave all three men a puzzled stare as they started their horses forward, but it eagerly trailed them.

  Thromar's yellow teeth shone through his beard. "I've got an idea," he said.

  "Holy Agellic!" Moknay exclaimed in mock awe. "Will miracles never cease?"

  "Jest if you want, Murderer," Thromar remarked, "but the Smythe said something about Sparrill herself causing friend-Logan's arrival-so she can just as well send him back."

  "How?" Moknay and Logan both inquired.

  The question was even on the ogre's face.

  "The very Heart of the Land," explained the fighter. "The Bloodstone guarded by the Sprites."

  Moknay stroked his mustache. "Hmmm, perhaps you're not as stupid as you look, Thromar," he jeered.

  "Stuuuuupiiiiid!" the ogre boomed happily.

  Logan scratched his head. "Are you sure this Bloodstone exists?" he asked. "I thought it was a myth."

  "You saw the Sprites yourself!" Thromar responded. "And with your magic-attracting ability, there shouldn't be any problem finding it!"

  Moknay smirked. "Would you care to wager on that remark? Say, five gold pieces?"

  "Make it ten!" Thromar retorted.

  "So be it! Ten it is!"

  Thromar grinned again. "But this time there'll be no dancing on corpses!"

  Logan felt a smile draw on his lips as he stared into the rising sun, and the warmth of its rays sent hope surging through him. There was still a chance of getting home, he told himself, and his companions would be at his side until then.

  He had been right, he thought with a smile. Sparrill was a nice place to visit…

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  Document creation date: 14.12.2010

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